


The Company of Friends

by TheSwordAndTheQuill



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Advisors, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Lyrium Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwordAndTheQuill/pseuds/TheSwordAndTheQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Cullen has never been very good at relying on others. Now, for the first time in years, he finds himself surrounded by people he trusts, cares for even, but that doesn't make letting them in any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Company of Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Lines To Words prompt challenge over at Tumblr. (Find the post [here.](http://everkings.tumblr.com/post/108673474156/so-i-had-a-sweet-preferring-to-be-anon-follower)) Just as a tiny warning, it deals a little with Cullen's Lyrium withdrawal.

It’s a bad night. 

He’d felt fine all afternoon, but as the shadows lengthen and the light dims, the telling ache begins to pool just below his breastbone. It starts like this sometimes and when it does he knows there is nothing to be done but grit one’s teeth and bear it.   
He gets another hour’s worth of work done before the tremors in his hands get bad enough to force his pen down. He sits quietly for a long moment, weighing to pros and cons of standing. On the one hand, if he doesn’t move soon he’ll end up sitting here all night, on the other…it’s going to hurt. 

Letting out a long breath through his nose he presses the flats of his palms against the desktop and levers himself up to his feet. Every joint screams in protest and he stays for a heartbeat or two, hunched over his arms, fingers flexing against the worn surface. When he feels steady again he thinks about what to do next. What he wants is sleep, but he’s let it go long enough now that climbing the ladder seems like a bad idea. One thing’s for sure, the armor needs to come off. He feels heavy, smothered, and consumed with a sudden need to be free of the the usually comforting weight of breastplate and grieves. 

He shrugs off the outer tunic with labored movements, fingers fumbling at the latches for a few moments until at last the straps are free and he sighs with relief as he sets the metal aside. He hesitates then, unsure what to do. Perhaps he’ll go find a cup of hot tea, the cook usually keeps a little supply of an elfroot infusion for him in the kitchen, he suspects its at Josephine’s instructions but she’s never said so.

He makes his way into the great hall, stiffly at first but with surer steps as his body warms and relaxes. Its empty for the most part, he nods curtly at the guards stationed at the door that leads to the war room. He intends to turn left and head down to the kitchens, but a bright peal of laughter from Josie’s office catches his attention. He hesitates, half turned toward the stairs, there’s always that voice in the back of his head, telling him its better to keep his distance, to save himself the trouble of caring and then losing…again. He turns back towards the stairs, then stops, bracing one hand against the cool stone of the wall as a shudder of pain flashes through him. By the time it passes the voices in Josephine’s office have stilled. 

"Commander?" 

He’s not surprised to look over and find Leliana standing in the door, it doesn’t matter that he never heard her approach. 

"Are you unwell?" She asks the question out of habit or politeness, he can tell that she already knows the answer.

"Its fine." He says thinly, then sighs. "I was looking for some tea."

"Ah." She says warmly, stepping forward to link their arms and move him toward the door in one smooth motion. "Then you have come to the right place." The lights in Josephine’s office are low and for once the desk is empty, its contents neatly stacked, ready for tomorrows work. Tonight however there is an air of relaxation in the room, and Cullen finds the tight line of his shoulders begin to loosen. There is a fire in the grate and two figures seated on the couch before it.

"Look who’s come to join us." Leliana says, and without preamble she deposits him on the seat between Josephine and Cassandra.

"Oh." He says, "I didn’t—" But Leliana is already coming back with glasses in her hands, rich red wine for Cassandra, something clear and smelling of springtime for Josephine, and a golden honeyed tea for him. She’s added a generous portion of ice to his glass and he takes it gratefully, only fully away of how warm he feels as his fingers close around the cold cup.

"Ah! Excellent!" Josephine declares. "You’re just in time to help me convince our Seeker that she should allow me order her a new gown from this delightful little boutique I just discovered." Cullen studies her face, her hair is down and she is soft and comfortable and lovely. He returns her smile easily and feels warmed. Cassandra too is more relaxed than he’s see her in months. 

"It is a frivolous expense." She says, her lips turned down slightly, but she does nothing to hide the sparkle in her eyes.

"You are a founding member of the Inquisition." Josie says, nodding sagely, "It wont do to have you always in that armor of yours." Cassandra opens her mouth but Josephine says,

"The owner is very anxious to curry favor with us, his prices are extremely reasonable and his leather work is to die for." 

"You may as well says yes." Leliana calls from across the room where she is working on some report or other, "Josie’s been talking about this all day, you’ll never get her off the scent, she’s worse than a Mabari."

"Very well." Cassandra sighs, delight creeping into her face. "As long as you promise to order something for our good Commander as well." She grins at him, nudging his boot with the toe of her shoe. 

He’s about to respond that he is perfectly content with his wardrobe thank you, when a sudden wave of nausea rolls over him with such force he has to close his eyes against it. The rumbling discomfort that has been quietly gnawing at his inside all evening roars into life, driving all the air out of the room. There is a strange tinkling, and he realizes distantly that it is the ice in the glass in his shaking hand.

There are vague voices, someone takes the cup out of his limp fingers and he is grateful, the last thing he wants is to spill tea all over Josie’s beautiful upholstery. He struggles to remember how to breathe. It hasn’t hit him this hard in weeks, he’s out of practice distancing himself from the worst of it. He clenches his teeth to keep from groaning and leans into the pain. Embrace it, make it your own, come out the other side. _Maker please._

He gradually becomes aware of hands in his, fingers curling around his wrists. He grips back tightly until the tremors subside and when he is able to open his eyes he finds Josephine crouching before him, worry etched into the creases between her finely sculpted brows. 

Cassandra perches on the seat beside him, her face is calm, but her mouth is a thin white line.

"Should I call someone?" She asks, ever sensible. "A healer perhaps?" 

"No." He tries to shake his head but the room wobbles dangerously and he thinks better of it. "It will pass." Josephine looks like she wants to protest but Cassandra simply nods. And pass it does, soon he is able to breath again he leans back, shaken and sore. 

"I’m sorry." He says, "I did not intend—" to what? to intrude, to ruin the fun? to let you see just how hard it is sometimes? Shame knocks around his ribs, threatening his composure. He’s afraid to meet their eyes, afraid to see their revulsion, or worse, their pity. There is a heartbeat or two of strained silence, then Leliana says, crossing the room and putting a new cup of elfroot tea into his hands.

"Josie, you never finished telling me that story about the griffons." 

Josephine’s laugh is a warm summer breeze, he feels it down to his bones. She settles herself back on the couch, filling the space next to him with light. He takes a tentative sip of tea and it is light and sweet with the familiar bright, sharp aftertaste of the root. 

"Griffons?" Cassandra asks, relaxing back against the arm of sofa and arching one eyebrow.

"I was eleven." Josephine says "And somehow I managed to convince my three older cousins that father had found a Griffon egg in his travels. I told them he had said if we took very good care of the egg we could keep it. I had them singing lullabies to a phoenix egg for a week!"

Cassandra laughs, and then begins to tell a story about her own childhood. Its the first time he’s heard her speak of if and Cullen can’t help the smile that sneaks across his face. It’s a nice sensation.

The rest of the evening is much the same, they talk and laugh and Cullen is reminded yet again how privileged his is to know these women, to work with them. To trust them, not only with his life but with his weaknesses. 

Cassandra and Leliana are engaged in a debate on the finer points of dagger wielding technique, he thinks about joining in, but his head still aches and his eyes are heavy. Josephine reaches out and kneads her fingertips into the back of sore neck, hesitantly at first but as he leans his head into her touch she grows bolder, threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp. 

"You should do this more often." She says softly. He hums his agreement, her touch is divine.

"We should." He says.

“We do.” She replies with a little laugh. “Most evenings in fact. The Inquisitor joins us when she can, sometimes Dorian, even Solas every now and then. You’re the one who shuts yourself away in that tower.” He turns his head to look at her and her expression, while kind, is serious. 

"You’re not alone Cullen." She says gently, "We’re your friends. We want to help you, if you’ll let us." There are a hundred things he wants to say to her, but none of them seem like enough.

"Thank you." Is the best he can manage. She smiles and settles down against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. He feels…safe. At peace. And more at home than he can recall in recent memory. Its a little overwhelming, its also wonderful. 

He smiles and lets his eyes drift closed.

***

Its late when the Inquisitor returns to Skyhold, its the end of a week long trek through the Western Approach hunting Darkspawn and she’s ready to sleep for the rest of her life. Bidding Dorian and Solas a quiet goodnight she steps lightly through the darkened hall. She just has to drop off a report on Josephine’s desk and then bed. 

She enters the office and is surprised to find Leliana working at a small table by the door.

"You’re back. Good." Leliana keeps her voice low, but her smile is warm. "How did it go?"

"Same old sandy wasteland, same old Darkspawn." The Inquisitor says, "Why are you up so late?"

"Just finishing some reports, it was a rather eventful evening." She nods toward the couch before the low fire and the Inquisitor has to stifle a giggle. Her diplomat, her general and her most trusted military adviser are piled on top of each other like puppies, sound asleep.

"However did you manage that?" She asks and Leliana grins. 

"One of my many talents." 

The Inquisitor grins back, then yawns. Leliana holds one one hand. 

"I’ll take that if you like Your Worship." She says, nodding at the papers in the other woman’s hand. "You should get to bed."

The Inquisitor sighs gratefully and hands them over. 

"Thank you." She says. Then glances at the couch again. "Should we wake them do you think?"

"No." Leliana picks up a soft throw off one the back of a nearby chair and drapes it over Josephine. "I’ll keep an eye on them." 

"Well don’t stay up to long." The Inquisitor says, reaching out and gently adjusting the pillow behind Cassandra’s head. Leliana smiles.

"Get some sleep My Lady." She says kindly, we have much to discuss tomorrow." 

With a little sleepy wave the Inquisitor heads to her quarters, a little warm coal of happiness in her belly. 

If she has to face the end of the world, she couldn’t ask for better people to stand with her. 

They might just make it through this after all.


End file.
